The Fundemental Things Apply
by Lizzy3
Summary: Bill Weasley is still aching from a mystery woman's sting on a train ride from Paris. Will he find love ever again? Read and find out. New story, new twist I think. Please, R&R! Bill meets Norah, Norah meets Bill.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own Amisi and some upcoming characters (Norah, Elinor, Luke, and Joshua). The rest of the characters belong to JK Rowling. The song "As Time Goes By" is from Casablanca. It's short, I know, but it's just the beginning.

_The day and age we're living in_

_Gives cause for apprehension_

_With speed and new invention_

_And things like fourth dimension._

Bill sat outside his flat; a glass of what looked like brandy held lightly by his fingertips. In the moonlight the amber liquid shown brightly, illuminating the pensive face of the eldest Weasley brother. As a child everyone used to coo that he looked exactly like his father. It was true, his lanky frame and bright hair were fairly reminiscent of dear old dad but he didn't buy it. Every night his mother tucked him into bed, tears spilling down her plump cheeks. It had been explained, her brothers, killed by the Death Eaters. As she bustled from the room, ready to tuck in the rest of her herd, Bill heard something oddly reminiscent of "Gideon".

As he grew older, he began looking more and more like his deceased uncle. Both were devilishly handsome with a kind of "manly" aura. Truth be told, it became sort of an identity for Bill. What grew from a mother's murmur turned into a full-on obsession, at least for a while. Nothing stayed too extreme with William Weasley though.

He let out a sigh and took a quick sip of his drink. He loved the sound of ice clinking in a glass. It had been a long time since he'd seen a pyramid or stepped into a balmy Egyptian bar. He could still smell it, that inherently foreign smell. He longed for it, for adventure, or well, maybe not just adventure. He wanted it back, his uninhibited escapades, the ones from which he could walk away unscathed. The War, that's all he thought about anymore, the bloody war. That's all anyone thought about anymore. That adventure wasn't the same; he couldn't distance himself from _that. _

_Yet we get a trifle weary  
With Mr. Einstein's theory.  
So we must get down to earth at times  
Relax relieve the tension_

He'd moved back to help, never thinking about how far he'd gotten away. The quiet London flat seemed more alien now than Egypt had ever felt. He couldn't get over pasty-skinned woman rushing into the Underground, black umbrellas clutched in their hands. He couldn't get over looking outside and seeing gray, angry rain clouds over-head for the sixth time in a week.

He had to do it though. His mother needed him; that was apparent. He had missed seeing his family. Ron was so much bigger now, and Ginny, well there really wasn't a comparison. No, his place was in England, not in his exotic fairytale; that would have to wait.

He watched as the sun slipped behind the congested skyline and finished his brandy. Laboriously, he struggled up and into his flat, locking the door behind him. The place wasn't as clean as it should have been but he'd been busy. A large pile of papers sat on his desk, taunting him. He really needed to get those forms to… But now wasn't the time.

_And no matter what the progress  
Or what may yet be proved  
The simple facts of life are such  
They cannot be removed_

He washed his cup and set it back in the cupboard. He ran his hand through his hair distractedly and walked to his bedroom. Maybe he should fire home. He contented himself with tiding up. He'd always been a neat person, though not to the extent of his dear younger brother. As he dusted off his desk he caught sight of the over-turned picture frame, the one that housed the one person who he could almost forget….Amisi.

They say old loves die hard. He considered her his first great love, his only great love. They'd met in Paris on a starlit night. He was boarding a train to Egypt, so was she. He had grabbed a bite to eat at a small café; she was there. She was dark and tan with long black hair that fell down her back in long waves. Her eyes were huge, like vast, dark orbs shining from behind thick lashes. In a word, she was breathtaking.

She dropped a napkin, he picked it up and their hands met. Bill had felt it instantly, a spark the likes of which he couldn't even imagine now. She felt it too and, in a voice like tinkling bells, she whispered, "What's your name." He hadn't heard anything so beautiful in English before.

"Bill, what's yours?" She smiled mysteriously and shook her head. That was not a secret she would tell so quickly. She joined his table and this Bill could remember perfectly, the piano began playing.

_You must remember this  
A kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh.   
The fundamental things apply  
As time goes by._

After dinner they had boarded the train together, finding two adjoining seats. They talked all the way to their destination. He found that she was an Egyptian native, headed back from Beauxbatons where she was a teacher. What should have taken hours only took a couple of moments, a handful really. These memories Bill carried around with him in his pockets. They stood on the platform together; he snapped a quick photograph and that was the last he'd seen of her. He could still see the rusty bumper of the car as she drove away, out of his life.

'Really', his sensible voice reasoned, 'one train ride does not a true love make'. That was his sensible self; the sentimentalist inside cursed him repeatedly for letting her get away. The last words she said to him as she stepped into the car rang in his head. "Meet me in Paris, look for Amisi." That was it. He had of course contacted Beauxbatons but they had no forwarding address for Amisi Tahri. When and how exactly did she expect him to meet her in Paris?

So he tried with all his might to forget. He hadn't told anyone, not even Charlie or his father in whom he had always confided. He felt foolish and inept, falling in love with a complete stranger without means of contacting her. He couldn't help it; she was embossed on his mind, emblazoned in his memory.

Perhaps the rawness of his wound had opened up the artery more fully than before. Perhaps he was just suddenly aware of his yearning for romance. Whatever it was, he would soon find himself in a situation he had never expected.


	2. Mysterious Stranger

"Excuse me, I-hello! Is anyone listening to me?" Norah Intram stood at the reception desk at the Ministry of Magic, trying in vain to get the attention of the over-worked receptionist. She tried to lean over the counter, perhaps get her hands on the bloody list herself; unfortunately, her swollen belly got in the way of that. "Good LORD! Can I get some help here?" The receptionist looked up at her, clearly surprised. "Thank you, I just need you to check and itsy bitsy thing for me okay?" she gave the woman a patronizing stare. "I just need you to check on that list to see if my husband, Jonathan Intram is there. Can you do that for me dear?" The woman looked puzzled for a minute which only heightened Norah's annoyance.

"What list?" Norah let out a disgruntled snort.

"What list? What list? The bloody casualty list you dolt!" Norah was quite beside herself. No one was giving her any information. She was not one to sit back and wait for information. Had it not been for the fact that she had three children growing inside her she would have been out on the field with her husband and she would have known on what list he resided. The receptionist jumped and clambered around in the desk for the casualty list.

Norah waited with baited breath as the woman (well, girl really) ran her finger expertly down the list. "Ians, Inger," the woman's face fell and Norah's heart jumped into her throat. "Jonathan Intram?" Norah nodded, she felt the blood quickly rush out of her face. "I, I'm so sorry Mrs. Intram. It was just a minute ago…." the poor dear trailed off. She was fresh out of Hogwarts and not up to making a widow out of a pregnant woman. Norah gave her a half-hearted smile and stumbled in the direction of the fires. She didn't make it though. She felt her legs turn to jelly and fell, a good 5 paces before the fires. That was the last she remembered before waking on a couch in a very unfamiliar place.

"You say her husband died Arthur?"

"Yes, Jonathan Intram, a very young Auror, graduated with Tonks. So did she, pregnant with triplets too."

"Oh Arthur stop. It's just so tragic." Norah's eyes flickered open and she caught sight of the owners of the voices. One was Arthur Weasley, she had seen him before at the Ministry. The other was a plump woman that she could only assume was Arthur's wife. Wife, her heart sank as it all came back to her. "Oh, I think she's waking. Dear, are you feeling alright." Norah began nodding but it changed to a shake of the head as she felt as if an anvil had fallen on her head. "Would you like anything?"

"A good stiff drink is what I need but I can't have it," Norah mumbled. She heard Arthur chuckle obligingly.

"You fainted my dear and Arthur caught you. He thought, well, he thought you needed to be with someone when you woke so he brought you here." Mrs. Weasley's voice was so full of sympathy that Norah felt an urge to say she'd never really loved Jonathan anyway. Norah didn't take sympathy or charity.

"I-I," Norah felt her eyes start prickling. She didn't think she could face such a terrible world alone. It was hard enough bringing kids into a war, let alone a war without a father. She wasn't worried about lack of protection, she and Jonathan had both known who the superior Auror was. No, it was lacking yet another thing when there were already too many pieces missing to count. She rubbed her bulging tummy absent mindedly. Her brain was already making lists, things she would have to do.

Jonathan's funeral needed to be planned, the necessary people called. "I'll need to call the crematorium," she hadn't realized she was saying things aloud.

"What dear?"

"Oh, I, just, there are things I have to do. Thank you, I apologize for being a burden. I'll just get going," she attempted to push herself off the couch. She would have made it too, if it hadn't been for Arthur's hand pushing her gently back to the couch.

"Mrs. Intram-"

"Norah, please."

"Norah, your husband's cousin is handling everything at the moment. You don't have to do a thing." Norah gave an unladylike snort.

"I don't think you understand; I _do _have to do a great many things. Jonathan's cousin Sarah is a complete twit. She'll just run amuck with the whole affair. No, I really must be going. Thank you so much for your help." There wasn't time for grief, even if she had been able to summon it.

Norah McGowan, as she had been known before her marriage, had never been much of a romantic. She and Jonathan had just made _sense_. She'd known him since childhood and he was quite the looker. It had been a marriage of convenience, nothing more. It sounded harsh and she of course had had feelings for him but his death was not devastating. It was more exhausting really, so much to do.

"Don't you think you should rest your feet dear?" Mrs. Weasley's suggestion was so tempting. Norah almost took it too but then, well, Sarah would just run amuck.

"No, I'm afraid I must be off." With one almighty heave she was up and heading toward the fire (apparating wasn't safe when pregnant). "Might I bother you for some floo powder? Mine seems to have fallen out of my pocket," she asked after fishing around in her dress pocket for a moment.

"Of course, it's in the jar on the mantle." Arthur gestured toward the vase.

"If ever you need to just talk or any help at all, don't hesitate to come by," Mrs. Weasley hastened. Norah gave her a smile.

"I will, don't worry."

"Molly and I are both so sorry about Jonathan." Norah nodded courteously and stepped into the fire. In a moment she was home and met with a very unsightly scene. Sarah _had _run amuck. Norah's once pristine and well organized house was in shambles.

"Alright, everyone, let's get this under control!" Norah said in a commanding voice. She and Sarah were Jonathan's only remaining relatives but many well-wishers had assembled. In a mere half hour Norah had all the flowers taken care of and hors d'oeuvres in the oven. She knew what people were saying behind her back but she didn't care. Those who knew her and Jonathan best knew they had a good relationship. She had made him happy when he was alive and he her (to an extent). Simple things like a lack of copious amounts of "puppy love" shouldn't stand in the way of a marriage.

By the time Norah fell into bed that night the entire funeral was planned and her house was back in top form. With a pang of sadness she realized Jonathan wouldn't be there beside her; she would miss him. He hadn't gotten a chance to get excited about the baby. When he died he'd still been in his pre-excited, nervous wreck faze. He hadn't wanted children, now he would never have them. She hugged herself and found she couldn't sleep. What was she going to do? She needed a confident. Mrs. Weasley's invitation came back to her. It was oddly appealing.

Before her mind could talk them out of it, her feet were already to the fireplace. She threw in a handful of floo powder and in a strong voice said "Arthur Weasley's residence." She swirled viciously before landing on the hearth, managing to stay up for one of the first times in her life. She found herself in the small, scrubbed kitchen. No one seemed to be up. Her idea had been stupid; What was she going to do, wake Molly up?

She was about to head back home when a voice from the table startled her. "Who are you?" the voice sounded suspicious. 'Well you would be too' she reminded herself.

"Norah Intram. I came to talk to Mrs. Weasley but she's…"

"Asleep? She'll be down any minute. Mum's got a sick sense about these things. If my being awake didn't wake her, your presence certainly will. I'm Bill, Bill Weasley by the way." She accepted his hand.

'Bill, Bill Weasley, the name sounded familiar. She searched her brain, finally finding him. They had gone to school together. He had beaten out her cousin for Head Boy. "Would you like to sit down?" Bill asked, eyeing her abdomen. She smiled weakly and sat down. Bill got up and turned on the light. "Tea?" she nodded and watched as he poured her tea into a cup with "World's Greatest Mum" embossed on the side with a twinkling photograph of seven red-headed children underneath. "Honey?"

"Excuse me?"

"Would you like honey in your tea?" Norah had never liked honey before but when Bill said it sounded very tempting. She nodded. He handed her the cup and she rested it on her stomach. Bill laughed. "Come in handy?"

"Yes, very, I'm thinking of growing a permanent one." Bill chuckled. His laugh was like Arthur's. "I'm sorry to be intruding. This is a bit odd."

"Odd isn't necessarily bad."

"Thank you. It's just, well, I couldn't sleep."

"Neither could I. I had a lot on my mind and my flat was so empty so I came here." Bill didn't know quite why he was talking so much. "Until you came I was just sitting alone in the dark." His words seemed more significant than he had intended.

"I just got rid of the last guest an hour and a half ago. I had to clean up and then, well, I crawled into bed and found I couldn't sleep." She had never said so many non-nicety words to a stranger in her life.

"I'm sorry about your husband. Dad told me."

"Yeah, it's well, it's not that surprising. I mean, he could be pretty careless sometimes. It was almost like he knew they wouldn't kill him…. We were never really in love." She fell silent. She must be crazy. She had never told anyone that, well, excepting Jonathan. There was just something mysteriously comforting about Bill.

They were given no more chance for discussion as Molly's short frame appeared in the doorframe clad in a flowery dressing gown.

A/N: Hmm, very interesting eh? Please REVIEW!


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